


Money, Dick, Power.

by distinguishedlandcoffee



Category: UnREAL (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-08
Updated: 2018-04-08
Packaged: 2019-04-20 10:40:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14259189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/distinguishedlandcoffee/pseuds/distinguishedlandcoffee
Summary: Rachel and Quinn fight their way into something that looks a little bit like a real relationship.





	Money, Dick, Power.

**Author's Note:**

> S03E06 tag.

An hour after Rachel dropped her dad off at rehab, she got a call from the facility informing her that an anonymous donor had stepped in and that her check would be returned. When she called her realtor to see if she still had a shot at the cabin and found out that it was too late, she did the one thing she knew how to do best: she got angry.

Dr. Simon had seen to it that she returned to the set, to her truck, safely. And he had already headed off to wherever it was that he called home. So, lacking an easy punching bag, she stormed the set. Finding Quinn’s office empty, she pulled out her phone. Her Lyft was pulling up at Quinn’s house before she even knew how she’d gotten there. She gave her driver a 1000% tip because she’d recently come into some money she’d run out of ways to spend.

She pounded on Quinn’s door for anywhere between ten seconds and an hour, long enough for the tingling in her palm from the banging to turn into numbness, before Quinn, sleepy-eyed and wearing a short, red silk robe, answered the door. Quinn wore red like the color was invented just for her.

“Why did you pay for my dad’s rehab?”

“Rachel, what are you doing here?”

Rachel pushed past Quinn and into her house, not waiting for Quinn to close the door behind her before continuing the interrogation in Quinn’s living room. “I asked why you paid for my dad’s rehab, Quinn. How did you even know I was taking him?”

“The shrink said--”

“Dr. Simon? The doctor you got to supervise me is reporting back to you? I mean, of course he is. What else did he tell you, Quinn?”

“He’s just keeping me updated on who is living on my set. That’s all.”

“So the sanctity of Everlasting is worth breaking doctor-patient confidentiality?”

“Rachel, come on. You know as well as anyone that this doesn’t count as breaking doctor-patient confidentiality. And, you know what, why am I engaging in this fight? Why are you so pissed off?”

“Because you wrote a giant check for someone you don’t even know and you won’t even tell me why.”

“First of all, I didn’t write that check for your dad, Goldie. And, second of all, I thought you had better things to do with that money. You keep talking about that cabin. Someplace to live that’s not a truck.”

“Well, it’s too late. They sold the cabin to someone else and I couldn’t even take care of my dad and, what? You’re just being nice to me now?” Rachel started to cry.

“Jesus, Rachel.” Quinn tried to put her arm around Rachel’s shoulders and Rachel pulled away.

“No, I’m still mad at you.”

“Alright, you’re still mad at me but can you come be mad at me in the kitchen while I make us some tea?” Without waiting for a reply, Quinn headed into her kitchen. Rachel took off her shoes without even being sure why, leaving them where she stood in the middle of the living room, and padded after Quinn in her socks.

“Do you want honey? I’ll help with your throat,” Quinn asked with her back still to Rachel as Rachel slid onto a stool at the kitchen island.

Rachel hadn’t even noticed the soreness in her throat that the hours (days?) of crying and minutes of yelling had brought on. “Yeah, I guess.” She was already starting to lose steam. It was hard to be mad at someone when you were talking to them about honey and neither one of you was wearing shoes. It was hard to be mad at someone whose bare legs seemed endless and whose face looked like that with no make-up.

When Quinn set a steaming mug down in front of her, Rachel couldn’t even recognize the version of herself that would turn away from her touch. Sometimes her rage bled into lust, especially when it came to Quinn. The psychology of her attraction to Quinn was complicated. Rachel was comfortable with her bisexuality but Quinn was the first woman who confused her this much. She didn’t know if she wanted to be her, to fuck her, to break her, to destroy her, to maybe picture herself falling in love with her. She definitely wanted Quinn’s fingers tangled in her hair.

“I’m sorry,” Rachel barely heard herself say to Quinn who was still standing across from her, who just looked at Rachel over her own mug. “I’m sorry for coming here in the middle of the night and basically blaming you for all of my problems.”

“I’m sorry about your dad.” Quinn took a sip of her tea. “And that I threw money at you without talking to you first.”

“Yeah, thanks.” Rachel was on fire, hearing Quinn apologize and not under duress, and somehow her tea was still finding a way to cool off.

“You can stay here tonight, come into work with me tomorrow.”

“And do the walk of shame without even getting laid?” Rachel caught Quinn break eye contact for just a moment, a blush form on her cheeks that didn’t come from make-up and that couldn’t be hidden by her normal workday alertness. And Rachel was still feeling reckless enough to do something about it. “I mean, that’s one option. Another is that you can say the word right now and I can get another Lyft back to my truck. It’ll probably be easy after how much I tipped the last guy. Someone’ll be here before I can even get my shoes back on.”

“Or?” Quinn asked and Rachel couldn’t believe her luck. She got up from her seat and started to move around the counter, closing the distance between the two of them.

“Or, I can leave my shoes off. Take everything else off too. Apologize for ruining your sleep and work off some of this energy. Come into work tomorrow with you, smelling like your perfume and finally knowing how you look when I fuck you.”

And then Quinn was kissing Rachel. Quinn, who tasted like chamomile and sleep, toothpaste and vodka, and somewhere under all of that like Quinn. That same Quinn with her delicious taste was kissing Rachel, moving her hand up to Rachel’s hair -- and Rachel almost came right there -- and then breaking away just enough to lead her to her bedroom. And they are saying each other’s names over and over, like their usual punctuation but also like they’ve never been able to truly say them before.

The next morning, no one runs and they both work really hard not to flinch when they accidentally touch on the set, an abnormality that may in itself be suspicious. And without talking about it, Rachel ends up in Quinn’s passenger seat when it’s time to go home.

**Author's Note:**

> This chapter ("Money") was written because I kept waiting for Quinn to show up when Rachel was dropping off her dad.


End file.
